


Can I Go Where You Go?

by Thoughts Like A Minefield (Incog_Ninja)



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, F/M, Flirting, Fluff, Hallmark Channel fuckery, Kissing, Making Out
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-11-12
Updated: 2019-11-20
Packaged: 2021-01-29 13:01:57
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,881
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21410605
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Incog_Ninja/pseuds/Thoughts%20Like%20A%20Minefield
Summary: Ellie is a women’s boutique owner in small-town Kansas. One day, a handsome stranger walks in looking for an apology gift for his sister-in-law. When Ellie realizes who the man is and how he makes her feel, sparks begin to fly.
Relationships: Dean Winchester/Original Female Character(s), Rowena MacLeod/Sam Winchester
Comments: 2
Kudos: 14





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks and love to my squad Brianna, Val, and Keane.

“Flip you for it,” Mikki’s quiet voice pulled me from my Sudoku reverie, and I looked up bleary-eyed.

I grinned when I saw what she wanted to flip for – late-30/early-40s, handsome, tall, flannel and Carhartt, and clearly in way over his head in a women’s boutique. He was our favorite type. Obviously confident enough to walk through the door but so out of his element that we could lead him anywhere.

“Shit, I’ll wrestle you for this one,” I muttered, dropping my pencil to the paper and pushing away from the cash wrap.

Mikki’s phone rang and she scoffed. “Crap, it’s Nick.” She rolled her eyes. “Fine, he’s yours. Hello?” She walked away, chattering to her boyfriend.

“Hi there,” I said, circling my new client.

He looked up, confusion and frustration clouding his big, pretty eyes. Up close, he was even more stunning. I may have gasped, but he didn’t seem to notice.

“Hi,” he said, tense and shifting his weight, fingers fidgeting with each other at his sides as if he were conjuring a spell to show him the way.

I grinned. “Looking for a gift?”

We’d had training exercises at the shop on how to make every client feel welcome. This man was not an uncommon client, but he was wound a little tighter than most. He didn’t appear to be angry or resentful for having to be in a women’s boutique, just slightly lost.

My job was to give him direction.

“Yeah, uhh…” he answered, standing a little straighter, drawing in a breath, his broad chest puffing with air. “Somethin’ for my sister-in-law?”

I took another moment to soak him in – epically kissable lips; a jaw that just begged to be nibbled; those bright, warm eyes framed with thick, feathery lashes; and pink cheeks dusted with soft kisses from the angels above.

Finally, I braced myself to do my job and to stop ogling the customer in front of me.

“OK,” I squeaked before turning to compose myself. “Is it a birthday, or…?”

“No, I kinda…” He cleared his throat as he followed me.

I turned to face him enough to see his expression.

“I kinda fu-” He winced and bit his lip, and I tried not to laugh out loud; I didn’t want to make him more uncomfortable.

“I mean,” he continued. “I did something _really_ stupid, and I need to say I’m sorry.”

Then it was evident why he seemed so uncomfortable; not because he was in a women’s specialty store but because he was in the doghouse.

“I see,” I replied, coming to a stop next to a selection of bracelets. “Well, then, may I suggest jewelry?”

He looked a bit deflated at that suggestion.

“Yeah, that ain’t gonna work.” His lips twisted and brow furrowed. “She makes her own jewelry, and she’s _real_ particular,” he paused again with a sigh. “I’m screwed, huh?”

I smiled and shook my head then moved toward the scarf display. “We’ll find something, don’t worry,” I assured him, charmed to the bottom of my heart by his earnestness and consideration. It piqued my curiosity for what exactly he did to be in so much trouble with his sister-in-law.

“What’d you do, anyway?” I thoughtfully perused the display. “If you don’t mind my asking,” I added, hoping that he didn’t mind.

He shrugged, then, growing slightly agitated.

Since he’d walked in the door, I had experienced almost an entire range of emotions from him. I hoped that I’d get to see him happy and smiling at some point. I bet myself that he had _the best _smile.

“I’m allergic to cats, right?” he non-answered, leaning into the wall, and I nodded encouragingly.

Then he did one of those full-body eye-rolls at himself as he drew a very deep and long breath before continuing in one long stream of a confession.

“So, I kinda didn’t act fast enough when her cat walked across the stovetop while I was making breakfast and it’s blind and deaf and got its little paws burned and caught its tail on fire and now he’s all mopey and she won’t even look at me.”

“Ooh,” I cringed. I wondered just how angry this sister-in-law was.

Then it occurred to me that I was learning quite a bit about this man and still didn’t know his name.

“OK, listen…” I got my bearings and looked him straight in the eye. “What’s your name?” I asked gently.

“Dean,” he answered, his eyes lighting with something I would come to know as the Winchester Swagger. “Winchester.”

“Oh, my god, wait,” I said, an ultra-spark of recognition going off in my head. “You’re Sam’s brother – _Rowena’s_ brother-in-law!”

Dean Winchester was Kansas’ most eligible bachelor. His two younger brothers, Sam and Adam, were both married already, and his adopted sister Charlie was partnered with a lovely ranching heiress from Arizona.

He was notoriously single. He’d had a few relationships but nothing serious. Dean was like a fucking urban legend in small towns across the state, especially to male-attracted individuals like me.

His brow jumped in amusement, and he finally smiled. It was as dazzling as I had dreamed. “You know Rowena?” he asked.

“Yes! She’s in my book club!” Everything made so much more sense then. “And, not that I’d wanna be on her bad side,” I conceded. “But – I also know what she thinks of _you_.”

Dean grimaced. “I can only imagine what Rowena says about me,” he said, running a hand up over his cropped hair.

Rowena had told their entire book club about her brother-in-law and how he had literally saved her life one night when she was too stubborn to take help from a stranger. She was new to town, had heard of the Winchesters – everyone had heard of the restaurateur family, even four towns away – and she did not want help from any man.

She said Dean never brought the incident up again. He never mentioned it when he introduced her to his not-so-little brother or when he saved her life a second time on a hunting trip. She said that Dean Winchester not only saved her life but taught her a lesson for which she would be forever grateful.

“Generous, valiant,” I began to list the simple words Rowena had used to describe him. “Handsome.”

Dean arched a brow and smirked. “Now, let’s not tell Sammy that part,” he joked.

“Like he can’t see with his own eyes what his brother looks like,” I snorted.

Dean dragged his tongue over his bottom lip and his gaze across my face, down my neck over my chest, arms, hips then slowly back up to my eyes.

It was my turn to clear my throat. It was very warm in that boutique at that precise moment, and I needed some air.

“You know what?” I said, flouncing away from him toward the entrance to open the door. “It’s hot in here all of a sudden, isn’t it?” I laughed nervously as he wandered behind me, hands in his pockets and a smirk on his lips.

“I think, ya know, that Rowena,” I paused, pacing my breath, arranging and rearranging the cart of gloves and hats by the door. “Rowena would probably appreciate a gift certificate.” I nodded then met his gaze once again.

Mikki was on the floor then, watching us curiously as she straightened a rack of blouses.

Dean nodded, eyes dancing. “Yeah, you’re probably right,” he said, watching me closely. “I’ll get one of those.”

“OK, great!” I practically jogged to the register, full of the kind of sticky energy borne only from sexual tension.

I hadn’t had a date in months, and Dean Winchester of all fucking people was looking me over like a Christmas goose.

And I’m pretty sure my upper lip was sweating.

“What amount would you like to give?” I asked, trying to look professional as I stammered and tousled gifts cards with no success.

Mikki slipped behind me to lend a hand. That little jerk was all about juicy stories. I imagined that she was already spinning a yarn in her mind to recant at every bar in town for the following two weeks.

“Hmm,” Dean answered, pulling his wallet from inside his jacket. “How much d’you think?”

“For a situation like this?” I pondered and hummed and stalled. “I’d say… $300?” I said, looking to Mikki for approval I didn’t need. She looked back at me like I was a lunatic.

I snarled at her a little.

“That gives her room to browse a bit,” I said.

Dean pursed his lips, glancing back and forth between Mikki and me.

“Deal,” he said, eyes twinkling as he laid his credit card on the register. “But you gotta tell me your name.”

For some reason, I froze. I felt like a fool. As moments passed, I felt more and more like sinking into the ground forever.

“Ellie,” Mikki answered, saving face. “I’ll just… wrap this up.” She snatched the card and envelope, leaving Dean and me alone.

As Mikki banged around the stockroom, Dean snagged my attention. “Ellie,” he said as if he were weighing my name on his tongue.

His tongue… His tongue glistened between his teeth and his eyes narrowed. I _felt_ all of that _everywhere_, my skin prickled, and my breath shook from my lungs.

“This your place, Ellie?” he asked, searching my face with an inquisitive smile.

I nodded. “It is. Going on five years this Thanksgiving,” I answered, feeling small next to the Winchester legacy.

He actually looked impressed, giving me a bit of an ego boost. “Well, congratulations,” he said. “That’s an accomplishment in this economy.”

My heart and belly fluttered like a kaleidoscope of butterflies.

“Here you are, Mr. Winchester,” Mikki answered, rounding the cash wrap and handing Dean the gift bag with bright colored tissue and twine.

“Thanks,” he said with a wink for my meddling, little part-timer. “I’ll, uhh… see you.” He nodded like some golden age of Hollywood gentleman tipping his hat to a lady, and I almost passed out.

Then he turned and waltzed out of the store, shooting me one last playful glance.

“Dude,” Mikki began.

“Don’t even start, Michelle,” I said, holding up my hand to silence her.

“Dude!” she repeated, following me around the store as I busied myself. “Dean _Winchester_.” She was talking really loud, and I was very relieved that Dean had let the door shut behind him when he left.

“I mean,” she sighed dramatically. “I think I’m ovulating and it’s not even that time of the month for me!”

I stopped and arched a brow. “What is your point, exactly?”

She scoffed. “That he’s into you?” she duh-ed me. 

I steadied my breathing because _what I wouldn’t give_, _especially now that I’ve seen and interacted with the man_, but…

“He’s an established bachelor, Mik,” I said, calming myself as I outwardly attempted to calm her. “A very friendly, incredibly good looking, established bachelor.”

“Right,” she said. “Bachelor just means _available_.” She rolled her eyes and wandered off, dropping the subject, as 21-year-old college students not discussing themselves are wont to do.

I let my thoughts float around images of Dean Winchester in my store, in my living room, on my couch…

_Oh, boy._

“Hey, Mik?” I called after her. “Is there any of that Rose left from last weekend?”

I was going to need a drink, that was for sure.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rowena redeems her gift card and Dean brings Ellie some refreshment.

“Fergus has walked over open flames many a time; he’s balder than not,” Rowena let her thoughts trail as she admired her image in the full-length mirror.

“Well, this is quite lovely, isn’t it?” she asked, twirling, letting the diaphanous skirt of the floor-dusting negligee float on the air. “Quite fitting, as well.”

When the item came into the store, I told her about it right away. It was expensive, indulgent, elegant, and one-hundred-percent Rowena. And the color was perfect.

“That amethyst just sets off every gorgeous quality in you, Ro, honestly,” I said. 

Rowena sighed with delight. “I’ll take it,” she said, waltzing toward the dressing room to change back into her street clothes.

“That brother-in-law of mine is generous to a fault at times,” she called from behind the curtain, a particularly coy lilt in her tone.

Mikki came out of the stock room and raised a brow in question, and I shrugged.

Rowena had definitely spoken fondly of Dean in the past but never directly to me and never in such an intentional manner. Although I was unsure what her intention was, it was apparent that she had one.

“He’s pretty yummy,” Mikki said.

“Michelle Lynette,” I scolded quietly, giving her that look.

Rowena giggled like Tinkerbell as she swept the thick velvet drape aside to exit the dressing room. She then handed Mikki the garment she was about to purchase before turning her gaze on me.

“He is, isn’t he, Mikki?” Rowena smirked, sliding her gift card across the cash wrap toward me.

“Why are you looking at me like that, Rowena?” I asked, calling her out right there.

Since turning 40, I had lost all guile and patience with fuckery, and Rowena must’ve somehow absorbed it all into her stockpile of existing cunning.

“Like what, dear?” she asked, feigning innocence of which she had none.

“Like you’re about to play matchmaker,” I said, ringing her purchase and running her card, probably being overdramatic with the force I used in my actions – as if it were all the card’s fault. “Just mind your own business, sister.”

“Hmm.” She pursed her lips and narrowed her eyes at me. “One would say my friends and family _are_ my business.” She pulled out her phone and scrolled her messages. “However, I was not planning to make a match; I simply wanted to test the waters.”

Mikki snorted next to me as she handed Rowena her package.

“Right,” I said, chuckling. “Before you throw me and Dean Winchester into the deep end.”

Rowena fake-clutched her non-existent pearls.

“I know you,” I continued with an accusatory pointer finger. “I still cringe when I think about you trying to set up Ruby and Jo-”

“How was I to know they aren’t lesbians?” she asked, sober as a judge, making me laugh out loud.

“Rowena, even after they told you they were straight, you kept trying to get them in the same place at the same time. Jo had to leave book club!”

Rowena shrugged and graciously accepted her wrapped negligee from Mikki. “You never know where one will find love,” she said. “And with that, I will see you on Thursday – at book club.”

I shook my head as she answered an incoming call and strolled out of the shop.

“I love her,” Mikki said after the door closed behind my little Scottish friend.

“Yeah, well, you two are both a couple of trouble-makers,” I muttered. “Let’s get this place closed down so we can go for a cocktail and head home.”

~~~~~~~

“I’ll be in the back, Mik,” I called before drawing the curtain to the stockroom with a heavy sigh.

The holiday shopping season was less than a month to start, and while we did not partake in Black Friday nonsense, as it were, we did have an anniversary party to look forward to. I needed to get organized.

I took a large sip of my chocolate-coconut latte before setting it aside to dig in and box up clearance items that hadn’t sold to prep the space for new items.

Nearly two hours and 13 “Oh, my god, GUESS WHATS” from Mikki later, I was startled by an interruption of a different kind.

“Knock knock,” his voice accompanied the light tap on the curtained door frame.

I almost came out of my skin from the surprise then lost the contents of my stomach from the thought that I must’ve looked like a wildebeest after shoving my body into every nook and cranny of the stockroom – not to mention smell like one.

“Hey, sorry,” Dean said, holding up both hands in which he carried tall plastic cups from my favorite café down the street.

“Mikki said I should just come on back here.” He eased his way past the curtain, chin tucked into his chest and those thick, pretty lashes fluttering me into submission. “That is – _after_ she told me you might like a sparkling mint lemonade from Fuel.”

I huffed a laugh and rolled my eyes up then down and hung my head for a few seconds to catch my breath.

Between his purposefully restrained encroachment into my already claustrophobic backroom, his plump, shiny, curled-at-the-corners lips, and eyes as lush as the depths of the rainiest of forests, I was about to pass out.

Then, when I looked up again, he was grinning, straight and bright. The simple warmth and sincerity in his posture, his smile, and his eyes made me smile right back. I relaxed into his very presence.

“No worries,” I said, trying to be casual about checking my hair in the small mirror near the entry he had just crossed. I decided I didn’t look so terribly awful and accepted the beverage with as much grace as I could muster.

“And thanks,” I said, taking a small sip. “Got yourself one, too?” I asked, gesturing to his matching cup.

He nodded with a wink. “Had to see what all the fuss was about,” he answered, snagging the straw with his tongue before taking a generous pull of the sweet, tart liquid.

I mirrored those actions as well and let my mind wander to other things our tongues could snag – like each other’s. I thought about his clearly very large, very capable hands and what else they could do besides carry lemonade. My vision started to blur when I realized for the second time since meeting him so briefly last week that he had incredibly strong-looking hips and thighs, too.

After moments of sipping and staring and my wandering thoughts making my palms sweat, Dean broke the silence.

“I wanna take you out for dinner,” he said, eyes narrowing as he studied my reaction.

Out of fucking nowhere – no warm-up, no hem-hawing around, no games – he just said, “Hey, let’s go!”

Gone were the days of my life when I tried to play a part (I never liked it) and lost (I was bad at it.) I had stopped waiting around for Mr. Right because I didn’t want to waste my time if a man couldn’t just say what he wanted and respect me to do the same.

There I was, standing in the backroom of my very own boutique with a refreshing cup of ice-cold, lemony goodness and the most handsome, earnest man facing me and shooting straight.

He wanted to take me to dinner – plain and simple.

“Okay,” I said, chewing the end of my straw. “But you live 30 miles from here, so your town or mine?”

He grinned again standing straight and tall, almost filling the remainder of the tiny space between us then took a step forward. “How ‘bout you choose?” he replied, reaching into his jacket pocket and producing his phone. “Put your number in my phone and I’ll call you later tonight.”

He handed me his unlocked phone and watched, sipping the last of his drink as I shakily entered my contact information, including an emoji of the red-dress dancing lady.

“There you go,” I said, handing his phone back and shifting awkwardly under his gaze.

But there was something else. Giddiness, sure, but also comfort and safety. This virtual stranger set me as much at ease as he set me on fire, and I wanted to bask in it.

He snorted when I handed his phone back and he saw the emoji. “Nice dress,” he said, pocketing his phone then dragging his eyes over my dusty, rumpled work clothes. “But this is nice, too.” He leaned against one of the racks, looming over me. I had no instinct to budge or flinch.

Burn, baby, burn.

“So,” I murmured. “You’re gonna call me tonight, and we’ll make plans for dinner.”

He nodded down at me his gaze, dancing with mine, easily in sync. He reached up and brushed back a few stray hairs, tucking them behind my ear, then.

“Can I kiss you?” he asked quietly, open and bare, with eyes full of the wonder I felt.

All I could do was nod in agreement.

And then he was slowly dipping in, slowly tilting his head and slanting his mouth over mine. He backed me up against the wall with two long strides as if my feet weren’t even touching the ground.

I sighed into him, curled my fingers around the placard of his canvas jacket and let him show me the way.

The dazzling heat of every universe was in that one kiss. His mouth loved mine and his hands held me right where I belonged. Nothing else mattered anymore…

Until Mikki appeared out of nowhere.

“A-HEM!” she cleared her throat loudly and dramatically like the conniving little devil she is. “Mr. Crowley’s here, Ma.”

Dean raised his head slowly, blinking in bewilderment. He had one knee between my legs and his hands wrapping the back of my neck and one hip respectively.

I sighed loudly. “_Thanks_, Mikki,” I said with the kind of bite she knew all too well. “Tell him I’ll be right out.”

Dean retreated, looking pretty reluctant to do so, then ran a hand through his hair and shook his head.

“She’s your daughter,” he said with a smirk.

I straightened my clothes and checked my make-up for smudging. Crowley wasn’t exactly a vindictive person, but even in this small town, I didn’t need my building manager aware that I make out with guys I barely know in my stockroom.

“She is,” I answered. “I had her in high school – long story.”

Dean’s grin was a little goofy. “You can tell me about it tonight,” he said, pulling the curtain aside and following me out of the stockroom. “I’ll call you and we can go over the details.”

I tried not to laugh at his attempt at a smooth cover up in front of my colleague.

“Perfect,” I replied. “I should be done here around 6.”

“Great,” he said, with a tight smile.

“Good,” I replied.

Then he turned on his heel, tossed Mikki a knowing smile, and politely excused himself as he brushed past Crowley and exited the store.

“Dean Winchester,” Crowley said with an arched brow. “Friend of yours?”

“You could say that,” Mikki answered.

“Mikki?” I shot her a look. “I left a couple of items out for shipping. Will you get them ready, please? UPS’ll be here soon.”

She pursed her lips as she dragged herself to the back room, and I turned to face Crowley.

“So, what’s the word on the new insurance?” I asked, and we conducted our business as usual.

As Mikki and I closed up shop that evening, I checked my messages, finding one from Dean. It was the disco dude emoji and a kissy face with the message: “looking forward to our call.”

My grin could not be contained, and I was once again floating on air all the way home.


End file.
